Jay's back on the rink, still in full gear except for his helmet.He's skating lazy circles around center ice, with his stick in hand, looking completely at peace in a way he only ever does out here.
“Shouldn't you be celebrating with your team?”I call out.
He glides to a stop near the boards, grinning up at me.“I am celebrating.I'm celebrating with you.”
“I'm one person.”
“You're the only person who matters.”He holds out his hand.“Come down here.”
I raise an eyebrow before looking down at my Waves uniform.“I'm not exactly dressed for ice skating.”
“Good thing I'm not asking you to skate.”His grin turns wicked.“I'm asking you to trust me.”
Famous last words.
Still, I find myself making my way down to ice level, because apparently after two years of this man, I still haven't learned my lesson about his “trust me” moments.
There's a door that leads directly onto the ice, normally locked, but Jay's already opened it.He's waiting for me with his hand extended and that stupid beautiful smile on his face.
“You're going to make me fall,” I warn him.
“When have I ever let you fall?”
“That time in our apartment when you tried to eat me out while holding me against the wall.”
“That doesn't count.That was a controlled descent.”
“I hit the floor, Jay.”
“Gently, and I made up for it by giving you two orgasms, don’t you remember?”He's still holding out his hand.“Come on, Hart.Live a little.”
I take his hand.
The ice is slippery under my sneakers, and I immediately grab onto his arm for balance.He laughs, pulling me closer, one arm wrapping around my waist to steady me.
“I've got you,” he murmurs.
And he does.
He always does.
He guides me out toward center ice, skating backward while I shuffle forward like a baby deer.The arena is quiet except for the sound of his blades and my nervous breathing, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the frozen surface.
“Remember the first time you came to my apartment in college?”he asks, spinning us gently, and I tighten my grip on him.
“You mean when you begged me to come to your apartment because you couldn’t walk.”
“And yet you came.Even though you hated me.”
“I didn't hate you.”The admission comes easier now than it would have two years ago.“I hated that I didn't hate you.”
He grins, slowing our movement until we're just standing there at center ice.“And now?”
“Now?”I look up at him, this man who chased me for years, who introduced me to his little brother on our first date, and who makes me laugh even when I want to strangle him.“Now I love you.Even though you're still an idiot about your stretching routine.”
“I stretch.”
“You don't stretch enough.”
